GoldenBeryl ( 1 )

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One project, a selfish man's wish, had somehow birthed a masterpiece of his generation. A boy regarded as the ' pinnacle ' of humanity, one who will strive to achieve the highest seat of power, and all of that will be contributed to a white room facility's philosophy.


But....is he truly the pinnacle of humanity?


Someone who was bred to become a machine who only listens to logic and reasoning. Someone who was never raised as a ' child ', never treated as one, but merely an experiment. Which then turned into a possible solution.


Ayanokoji Kiyotaka is that boy's name. The one who stomped all over his peers in various physical and mental examinations, one who has achieved so much that many others could only dream of achieving within a lifetime. A boy that does not know love, angery, sadness, hatred, happiness-- nor does he feel it.


He was born without it.


A defect that even his father recognized, but could do nothing about.


So behind the walls of a glorified man-made prodigy, lies a deep emptiness no one could understand but the boy himself. He didn't deem it as a necessity to survive in that small world, so he didn't strive to learn and feel those strange concepts. No, what good would it do? Plenty of children who had these concepts-- who had such hearts. Were ruthlessly punished, pressured, and left broken for being weak. For feeling weakness.


But there was one emotion that boy felt-- longing.


Longing to feel the things he's read from books. Longing to understand the emotions the other students felt. Longing.... to know what it's like to care for a person other than yourself, to worry about someone other than yourself, to love a person whole.


But he can't.


Not here.


Not there.


Not with the way he is now.


Not with the way....the white room wants him to be.


He knew deep down, that by chance he were to escape the clutches of this dark white room. He'll never truly erase it. He'll never change. It was far too late, he was too far gone now to change the way he sees people. The way he sees himself. To the boy, people were just tools one must utilize to achieve victory, nothing more. With a mindset like this engraved into him, how could he ever hope to feel emotions-- what more, love?


To relieve himself of having to think this. He began seeing all emotions as nothing but a lie. That everyone around him is just as hollow as he is, that emotions were nothing but a mask to hide away humanity's cruelty. Compassion was the equivalent to pity. And pity is a hypocrite's weapon to place themselves in a ' good Samaritan's  ' position to feed their ego. Everything that people do always has a self-benefit. 


That's what he learned to accept, that was his own philosophy that the white room never provided him. This was something he could call his own for once, and that left the vaguest feelings of content within him. It's what forego all his doubts and kept him going. Kept him strong.

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